


one day, under the stars...

by ABitObsessed, Blixer



Series: ShuAkeWeek2020 [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Comfort, Crying, Dark Thoughts, Depression, Dissociation, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loneliness, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Minor Injury Description, Nightmares, Sexual Tension, ShuAkeWeek2020, Stars, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, but it only makes the angst worse, but its barely there, i challenge you to find it, i dont wanna spoil it itll make sense i promise, not really tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABitObsessed/pseuds/ABitObsessed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blixer/pseuds/Blixer
Summary: Goro deals with the aftermath of the interrogation room.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuAkeWeek2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988329
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	one day, under the stars...

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Hope, Stars, Fantasy
> 
> spoiler free: yes, there is hope, but not in how you are expecting it. there are most certainly stars and there is most certainly fantasy. have fun!
> 
> 1.

Goro couldn’t feel anything.

He heard the sound of the door closing behind him. The echo of his shoes on the floor of the precinct, bouncing off the walls. 

His clothes rustled mutely in his ears as the fabric crinkled with each step. 

He felt the slow rush of air as it went in through his nose, and back out through it again, without his input. 

His heart thudded loudly in his chest. The rush of his blood drowned out all noise--and yet it also didn’t.

He heard the sound of the silencer as it shifted underneath his clothes. Registered faintly that the metal was cold and uncomfortable against his skin.

He felt his mouth moving. Heard himself saying what needed to be said to Shido. Heard his voice come out, heard himself saying words, but he couldn’t understand them.

His head was overlaid with a mind-numbing buzz. His brain wasn’t processing anything other than the noises around him and the thump of his heart as it throbbed dully against his ribcage.

Goro blinked, and somehow he was on his bike, headed towards his apartment.

He heard the clink of the bike chain. The creak of the pedals. His own breath as he panted.

The silencer dug into his chest every time he breathed in.

It was dark. Shadows inhabited every corner on every street.

No one looked at him. He didn’t think he could handle someone looking at him.

He didn’t think he could handle much of anything right now, really. The wobble of his bike as he struggled to stay balanced proved as much. 

He fell over. He laid there for a few seconds, cheek pressed into the filthy concrete.

Somehow he found the strength to put his hands underneath him and push himself up. He got his feet under himself again, and he rose on stiff joints, bones simply rusted rebar that creaked and protested against every movement. 

He brushed himself off somewhat. Got back onto his bike.

Two blocks later he fell again. He braced himself poorly, his bike falling on top of him. He heard something tear. He heard something else snap. Heard something else clatter to the ground.

He laid there on his back for longer than a few seconds this time, staring sideways at the silencer that had somehow fallen out.

He reached out his right hand to pick it up, and paused.

He didn’t think his wrist was supposed to be able to twist in that particular way. He wiggled his fingers. He heard something click softly. He wiggled them again. _Click_.

He picked up the tube of metal, tucking it back into his coat. _Click._

His hands moved without input from his brain. They pushed himself back up again, somehow. _Click._

Goro distractedly wondered why his pant leg was suddenly wet. He glanced down.

There was blood dripping from his knee onto the concrete of the sidewalk. 

Goro heard himself breathe in sharply at the crack of a muffled gunshot right in his ear. At the sound of a head thudding against a metal table. At the wet, nauseating squelch of blood as it splattered across its surface.

Goro blinked, and he was on his bike again. Following each pedal was a soft _click_.

He somehow made it to his apartment without falling again.

He locked his bike to the rack mechanically. Heard the lock click into place. Climbed the stairs steadily enough. Heard his feet scuff the steps. 

Someone was blocking the way. He looked up and found concerned eyes staring at him, scanning his entire body. Goro felt the first pinpricks of discomfort stab through the numbness that had laid a haze over his brain.

“Are you alright?” he heard the stranger say.

Goro’s entire being stalled, short-circuited, sparked weakly to life. 

Someone...someone was...worried about him…? After all these years, after all he had done…

After what he had _just_ done. 

Oh God. Oh, _God._

The energy fizzled out, died. Goro yanked at the numbness, draped it around himself like a blanket, welcoming the haze over his brain.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he heard himself say, feeling his lips curl up into a plastic smile. 

The stranger didn’t look convinced. 

He barreled past them, not waiting for a reply, ignoring the sounds of protest from them. He didn’t stop until they were far behind him, until he had lost them, until he was standing in front of his door.

He quickly pulled his keys from his coat pocket. _Click._ Heard them jingle. 

The silencer shifted again. 

He inserted the keys into the lock. Turned. _Click._ He heard the lock disengage.

Goro reached up a perfectly still hand, laid it on the doorknob. Turned. _Click._

The door creaked as it opened, like it usually did. His mind latched onto the sound. It sounded so similar to the door to the interrogation room.

Goro swallowed. He heard the spit slide down his throat. Felt it start to solidify, felt it block his windpipe. 

He walked in. Closed the door behind him. Locked it. _Click._

His body was running on borrowed energy. He heard it fizzling and sparking weakly under his skin, threatening to give out at any moment. 

He crouched, taking off his shoes and his socks. _Click._ He heard them as they dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. He stumbled through the entryway.

He heard the water from the faucet of the kitchen sink drip onto the singular ceramic plate there. It was oily from the remnants of Leblanc’s curry.

 _Drip._

Goro’s toe hit the leg of the table. He knew, because he heard the table scrape across the tile. Despite his bare foot, he felt nothing.

He heard something crash. He heard it shatter into a million pieces. He distantly wondered if the sound came from inside of him.

_Drip._

He looked down. Bits of his coffee cup decorated the floor. The brown liquid that had been leftover from this morning had spilled across the entire area. It sunk in between the cracks of tile. Drops had splattered their way onto the doors of nearby cabinets. Some of it had even gotten into his slacks.

Goro’s mind had no trouble replacing the spilt coffee with blood.

_Click. Drip._

He didn’t bother to clean up. He walked across the broken bits. 

It became harder to walk at one point. His feet had grown slippery for some reason.

Eventually his knees bumped into the edge of his bed. He didn’t bother trying to right himself. He fell gracelessly onto the blanket.

Goro heard something drip onto the carpet. It kept dripping.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

.

.

.

.

.

.

He closed his eyes at some point.

_Drip._

_Drip._

* * *

Akira’s hand was warm in his.

This was the first thing Goro noticed as he looked up at the stars from the roof of Akira’s childhood home. The moonlight shone softly on them, giving Akira’s black hair a blue sheen. The stars were surprisingly clear against the dark sky, winking and sparkling at him with their white light. 

Goro had never seen the sky be so clear before in his life.

Akira scooched closer, his side pressed against Goro’s. Their hands found each others’, heat drawn to heat. 

It felt right. Natural. Like being by Akira’s side was right where Goro ought to be.

He leaned his head on Akira’s shoulder, squeezing his hand. Akira’s scarf was soft against his cheek. Akira laid his head on top, squeezing back.

They stayed there, sharing their warmth through their heavy winter clothes, heat originating at their conjoined gloved hands, spreading throughout their bodies. Their breathing slowly synced up. Breathe in through the nose. Breathe out through the mouth. Their breath left clouds of mist in the air.

Goro felt Akira’s pulse beat in time with his own.

He fantasized that they shared more than just their breath, their warmth, their heartbeats. He thought that they shared in each other completely, that they had nothing to hide from each other. That there were no secrets between them. He fantasized that they could see into each other’s souls, that they saw everything the other was made up of, and that they loved all of it, no matter how ugly and dark parts of their souls had become.

“I’ve always wanted to show you these stars,” Akira said quietly, interrupting Goro’s train of thought.

“Really?” Goro questioned, a little surprised. Akira had proven himself to be a chronic flirt, but in all the time he had known him, Goro hadn’t taken him as much of a romantic. “How come?”

“Well,” Akira said, sounding bashful. He reached up with his free hand to play with his bangs, twisting and yanking on the hair. “Before...before I was sent on probation, and even before I ran into Shido…I used to climb up here by myself, to get away from my parents. Just for a little bit.”

Akira laughed a little, letting his hand drop behind him, leaning on it. “They’d freak if they knew that I’ve been coming up here ever since I was old enough to climb trees. Though not out of concern for my safety. They’d probably think I’d be tearing out the shingles or something, I don’t know. Either way, if they knew, they wouldn’t be happy.”

Goro thought about how they had gotten up here in the first place. He did not want to repeat the experience, if only because Akira had laughed at him and teased him about his lack of ability before ultimately helping him up.

“So you were a rebel even back then, huh?” Goro teased lightly, and was rewarded with a small smile from Akira for his efforts.

“Haha, yeah, I guess. Anyways…” Akira continued. “It became a sort of routine. My parents would yell, or they’d fight, or they’d ignore me. Or you know. They’d say something super prejudiced and I’d need some time to cool off before I gave them a reason to turn their anger on me.”

“Prejudiced?” Goro interrupted. Akira nodded.

“Prejudiced,” he repeated, reaching over to tuck some loose strands of hair behind Goro’s ear. “I kinda knew that they weren’t exactly thrilled at the idea of anything remotely homosexual. They didn’t bother to conceal it. But, right before the whole shit-show with Shido, I came out to them,” Akira sighed, bringing his hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

The movement jostled his now very real glasses. Goro’d had a field day when Akira had told him he needed to start wearing them for real now. 

“I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea. Maybe my dumb self thought that I could change their minds? Something along the lines of ‘I’m their son, they have to accept me’ or whatever.” He dropped his hand again. “Either way, it was really stupid. They didn’t talk to me afterwards, and then they didn’t even look at me once I got arrested. I’m pretty sure the fact that they knew I was gay was half the reason they sent me to Tokyo in the first place.”

Goro hummed. Akira didn’t really seem angry, just resigned. He probably had spent all his anger on the subject already. Goro tried to reign in his own anger at the new information, knowing that at this point it really wouldn’t make a difference.

“Is that why you snuck me here the same way you would sneak Morgana into school? Because you both tried to be subtle while also not, as you didn’t seem to care if we got caught,” Goro said, the statement accompanied by a smirk.

Akira groaned in exasperation at the reminder, tugging at his hair again. “Look, no one at school said anything about Morgana in class or anything! How was I supposed to know they thought he was an emotional support animal?” He made a face at nothing. “Morgana gave me so much shit for that when he found out. He said he didn’t like being demoted to such a lowly existence. It wasn’t even my fault,” Akira sighed, letting his hand drop again. “God, let’s not talk about Morgana right now, ok? I deal with him enough as it is.”

“Fair enough,” Goro conceded. He too would rather not have Morgana interrupt his alone time with Akira, whether it was with thoughts of him or whether it was the cat himself climbing his way up here at the mention of his name.

“Although…” Akira said, turning to Goro a little, grabbing his own chin in thought. 

“Although?” Goro questioned.

Akira looked at him before he smiled. His eyes shone silver in the moonlight, even though they were normally a dull gray. 

“I really _wouldn’t_ care if we did get caught. I’d love to show off how wonderful and amazing and _smart_ my boyfriend is to my parents,” Akira whispered, shifting so that his lips pressed against the hair just above Goro’s forehead. Heat spilled from the contact. “And to anyone else that bothers to look.”

Goro flushed, shoving Akira lightly while trying to hide the stupidly pleased smile on his face. “Laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I would be, if it wasn’t all true.”

And Goro didn’t know how to react other than to flush harder at the completely serious and genuine expression on Akira’s face. He blinked at Akira, awestruck at how the former thief's skin seemed to practically _glow_ in the moonlight.

Akira smirked, kissing his nose after about a solid minute of Goro just staring at him. Goro’s nose twitched, a little startled at the movement, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain some semblance of his composure.

“We got distracted,” he muttered, tucking himself back into Akira’s side, hiding his face to spare himself from some of the embarrassment. Akira chuckled knowingly before he nuzzled his hair, his breathing tickling his head, sending little shivers of warmth down to Goro’s toes. “You didn’t answer my question about why you wanted to show me the stars.”

“Oh, right,” Akira murmured, rubbing his thumb against Goro’s own. “Like I said before, I used to come up here a lot. And every time it comforted me. It’s a little strange, actually.”

“Strange how?” Goro asked, nudging his nose at the underside of Akira’s chin.

“Strange as in I was comforted by the fact that me and all my problems were so small,” Akira replied, glancing at the stretch of the sky above them. “When I looked up at the sky, I was always so overwhelmed by the fact that the sky is so _big_. And, like, how those stars are so far away, but we can still see them. And how the moonlight is just a reflection of the sun. I don’t know. It just made me feel tiny, like my existence was a mere speck in the ultimate scheme of the universe. And what are my problems to such a grand thing?” Akira breathed a little sigh, nuzzling Goro’s hair again. “They don’t even blip on the radar. The kid on the rooftop who waited for his parents to tire themselves out by yelling at each other is nothing. And that made me feel better.” 

“You’re not nothing to me,” Goro whispered firmly, squeezing Akira’s hand tighter. Akira laughed lightly. His breath was warm on his head. Goro shivered.

“I know, silly,” Akira said, squeezing back just as tightly. “For the record, you’re not nothing to me, either.”

Goro let out a pleased hum. “Nice to know.”

Akira chuckled lightly. “As I was saying before my cute boyfriend distracted me with confessions of profound love--”

“That’s not what I--” Goro spluttered, exasperated and embarrassed simultaneously. 

“--eventually,” Akira barreled on, regardless of Goro’s interruption, “I’d get cold at some point because I’d always forget to grab something to keep me warm in my rush to get away. It’s always cold up here, even in the summer. Anyway, I’d crawl back in through my window, and sometimes they’d still be going at it. Sometimes they’d _keep_ going at it until I fell asleep.” Akira moved to disentangle himself from Goro, and while he was reluctant to let him and his warmth go, the former detective did. 

Akira smiled at him after removing his gloves. “I don’t think I’ll be going back down tonight anytime soon, though. Not with how warm you are.”

And then Akira was cupping Goro’s face with his hands. The hand that had been held in Goro’s own was warm. The other one was fucking _freezing._

“Look, see?” Akira said, skimming the pads of his thumbs over Goro’s heated cheeks. “Practically a furnace.”

Goro was speechless for a good few seconds before the temperature of Akira’s left hand started to really sink in. “Get your hand off of me,” Goro grumbled, shying away from the ice cold fingers. 

Akira sighed dramatically, but he complied, taking both of his hands away after his own grumbled, “If you insist, party pooper.”

“Idiot,” Goro said, snatching Akira’s warm right hand before it could touch the cold roof. “I said ‘hand’. As in singular. This one gets to stay.” 

He brought the hand back up to his face, lightly brushing his lips over Akira’s palm before cupping it against his cheek, closing his eyes and leaning into it. He flushed at his own boldness, but reopened them after a few seconds, smiling triumphantly at the way Akira’s eyes had widened considerably, his own pale cheeks beginning to sport their own deep red blush.

A beat of soft, sweet silence passed, where they just basked in the warm, fuzzy feeling of touching, and being touched.

“We’re getting off track again,” Akira murmured, shifting a little, letting go of Goro’s face in exchange for his hands, holding onto them as they settled in between their laps.

“Tends to happen when I’m around you.”

“You _are_ incredibly distracting.”

“So are you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Akira turned to him, shifting his hands out of Goro’s grip, grabbing both sides of his face and squishing his cheeks together. “It’s the fucking stars, Goro,” he said.

Goro blinked. “What’s with you and touching my face tonight?” he asked, though it came out muffled and sounded a lot like someone who was trying to talk while their cheeks were getting squished. Akira merely smiled, muttering something along the lines of ‘your cheeks are warm and cute and I love them’, and squished more. 

Goro sighed in resignation. He’d let him do whatever he wanted. For now. “What do you mean ‘it’s the fucking stars’?”

“Look,” Akira said, intensely focused on seeing how far he could squish Goro’s cheeks in. “All that philosophical bullshit is only like, a fifth of the reason why I brought you up here. The rest of it is because the stars are fucking beautiful, ok? And when I remembered them the other day, they reminded me of you, because you’re also fucking beautiful. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to see two fucking beautiful things together,” he said, continuing his ministrations on Goro’s cheeks.

“Would you _stop?_ ” Goro whined petulantly, finally growing exasperated enough to pull at Akira’s arms. He managed to succeed in getting his hands off of his face.

Akira huffed. “You’re no fun.”

“I’d like my cheeks to stay right where they are, thank you very much.”

“Stick in the mud.”

“Clingy.”

“Narcissist.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something to me, pot?”

“...touche.”

Goro reached up and squished Akira’s cheeks in victory. Akira let him, a smile in his eyes.

“The stars _are_ fucking beautiful,” Goro conceded.

“You haven’t even been looking at them since we started talking,” Akira mumbled, sounding squished-cheeky.

“Correct,” Goro agreed. “But I’m looking at something far more fucking beautiful than them right now.”

Akira’s eyes sparkled, and his face sported a deep red blush. It seemed natural when Akira grabbed Goro’s hands, held them gently in his own. It seemed natural when they leaned forward, foreheads and cold, red noses touching before they kissed, lips pressing lightly against one another’s.

It seemed natural when their arms found their way around each other, hands on each other’s backs and heads, in each other’s hair. Goro curled as much of himself as he could around Akira, arms and legs and hands scrabbling to find as much surface area as they could, as he continued to mouth softly at Akira’s pink lips, his hands finally settling on gripping the fabric of his coat as tightly as he could.

Goro felt something hot and wet drip onto his cheek. He didn’t care about it at first. He was too busy kissing Akira.

Another drop of that hot and wet liquid hit his cheek again, and he huffed, opening his eyes.

The blood was disturbingly red against Akira’s unnaturally pale and sallow skin.

He stared, wide-eyed and horrified at the bullet hole that had manifested on Akira’s forehead, _drip_ , _drip,_ _dripping_ blood down his face and off of his chin, pulsing with his heartbeat. Every pulse squirted more blood out of the wound, staining Goro’s suddenly bare hands. 

His hands were so thoroughly coated with the stuff that he could smell the rust, taste the metal of it on his tongue. 

There was blood all over Akira. Goro noticed with rising nausea that it was in the exact places that he had touched--Akira’s own stained hands dripping, his cheeks marked with stunning replicas of the former--no, _current_ \--detective's own handprints.

Akira smiled like nothing was wrong.

But--but _everything_ was wrong--Akira was dead and it was _his fault_ \--

It was always his fault. His fault. His _fault._

He could never have anything good in his life--he didn't deserve it--he was _fucking cursed--_ just like his mother had said--like his mother had said before she kicked out the chair--and then she was hanging from the ceiling--dangling, gasping, scratching, _choking_ \--and there was blood _everywhere_ , on the carpet, on her hands, in his hair, on his face--

“I love you, Goro,” Akira and his mother whispered simultaneously.

They were the final words of the sympathetic executioner before the ground suddenly disappeared from underneath him, before he was being choked to death.

He reached up his stained hands, but there was nothing there. There was no rope, nothing choking him. But he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking _breathe._

His own hands wrapped around his throat. He felt the warm liquid drip down the front of his throat. 

Akira’s own stained hands rested over Goro’s as they squeezed, encouraging his actions. He was still smiling at him.

“You know you deserve it,” he murmured, in a voice that sounded a lot like his own.

_Drip._

Ripples spread out on the pool of blood at his mother’s feet.

_Drip._

Akira’s blood fell in rivers off of the table.

_Drip._

_Drip._

* * *

Goro jerked awake.

Guilt and regret pressed down on his entire body, an invisible hand on the back of his head as it was grinded harshly into the mattress. He tried to breathe--the fabric below him a gag that paid no mind to his need for oxygen. His arms wouldn’t--couldn’t move. They just shook.

His whole body was shaking. Something was digging, clawing, tearing its way into his heart. 

It crawled up his throat, sat there hotly, heavily, painfully. It burned. 

It crawled up to his eyes too, burning, burning, _burning._ His eyes were on fire.

Every nerve ending was a lit match, searing every cell, every follicle of hair on his head.

The beast in his body churned in his stomach, clawing at the walls. Acid burned in his throat; a precursor to vomiting.

Goro tried to push himself up so he could run to the bathroom, unable to prevent a cry of pain from escaping his lips when the slightest pressure on his right hand shot lines of agony up his entire arm. He fell back onto the bed, and even that slight jolt was like dragging his body over red coals.

Goro turned his head, trying to orient himself through the dizziness in his brain. His eyes latched onto red.

There was blood on the floor.

The beast clawed again.

Goro used his good hand to grip the windowsill, shakily pulling himself up and managing to get his feet onto the floor.

He moved to stand, and then something _actually_ dug into the soles of his feet, like needles driving straight through the flesh and muscle and tendon of his feet and poking out the other side. His knees went weak of their own volition in an attempt to alleviate the pressure and pain. 

Goro fell forward heavily onto his knees, but the sting in one of them caused him to lose his balance, aided by dizziness. He instinctively threw out his hands to brace himself.

Goro remembered too late the state his right hand was in--something was broken, Goro’s brain had somehow gathered through the haze of pain--but that did not stop the agony from coming. Did not stop his body from falling forward the rest of the way, did not prevent him from banging his chin harshly on the thinly carpeted floor.

His stomach churned more. Acid burned his throat again.

He tried to push himself up with his one good hand, his other arm limp and useless at his side. He couldn’t do it. His arm wobbled horribly before giving out, giving his chin another dose of pain.

He reached out, clawed at the carpet, pulled himself forward. The carpet burned his exposed skin.

He couldn’t make it.

He turned his head, expelling only bile, his body curling in on itself despite the ache of his injuries. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate.

He vomited for so long. He vomited until not even bile came up, and he was just gagging, choking on air as it seared down his throat.

His nose burned on the smell. He rolled over to get away from it, disregarding the searing arc of pain in his worthless arm.

Goro huffed out a bitter laugh for how weak and pitiful he was being. It was just a little pain. No amount of pain should have reduced him to this pathetic mess--laying vulnerably on the floor like an overturned roach, just waiting for the boot to fall.

He was so fucking _angry_ with himself. He’d faced worse. He’d had multiple broken bones before. He’d scraped his knees plenty of times.

So why couldn’t he fucking _get up?_

Frustrated tears slipped traitorously from his eyes. The brunette ground his teeth, squeezing them shut, trying in vain to cut off the flow.

Pathetic. Pathetic. 

...what would Akira say, if he saw him like this? What would Akira _think?_

It didn’t matter.

Akira wasn't here.

Akira was dead because Goro had pulled the trigger.

Akira was dead.

Akira was _dead._

_Akira…_

A broken sob echoed in his ears. He felt his face scrunch up, felt his chest heave for breath in between each pathetic exhalation of air, felt his tears wet his hair. 

He wanted to stop crying. He reached up with his hand, rubbing furiously at his face and eyes, trying desperately to stop the tears from flowing.

He couldn’t stop. He wailed, like a child. Like a fucking child.

Why couldn’t he stop crying? Bad things always happened when he cried. 

Goro couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. “I’m sorry…” he whispered to no one and everyone.

His voice was disgustingly weak. 

“I’m sorry…! I’m--I’m so s-sorry--I’ll s-stop crying--I promise, s-so please-- _please!_ Please don’t leave me here alone…!”

Akira’s gray pupil-less eyes stared at him as he laid there on the floor. His stance was casual, arms and legs crossed as he leaned against the wall. The bullet wound pulsated and dripped more blood onto the carpet.

_Drip._

Goro knew he wasn’t real--his body was translucent. But the blood--as the blood dripped from Akira’s chin, it solidified, growing completely opaque by the time it hit the floor.

_Drip._

“A-akira…” Goro hiccuped, still rubbing his face even as the skin turned red and raw. “I-I didn’t--I--I’m sorry! I’m so s-sorry! I didn’t--I didn’t m-mean it--I had to, I had to! He made me--he would have killed me--I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--please--”

“You killed me, Goro,” the spectre said. Akira’s voice was smooth and soft and deep as it normally was. 

It stabbed Goro right in his aching heart.

“I’m sorry--”

“You killed me.”

“I’m _sorry_ \--”

“You _killed_ me!”

“I _know!_ ” Goro yelled, still sobbing. “I know. I know I did. I killed you. _I killed you._ ”

“...that’s right,” Akira said, kicking himself off the wall and coming over to Goro. He stared down his nose at him, regarding him like the roach he was. “That’s right, Goro.”

Goro just stared and cried.

Akira reached down, his hand phasing through Goro’s clothes. It gripped the silencer Goro had not bothered to remove before he had fallen into bed. Pulls it out with no resistance.

Goro did not react to the perfect replica of the gun he used to kill Akira with suddenly sitting in his hand. Did not react as Akira turns the gun over in his hand, checking the magazine, the chamber, the bullets, and clicking the safety off.

He did not react when Akira straddled him, nor when he rested the barrel on Goro’s forehead, in the exact same place he had done to the real Akira.

“This is what you did,” Akira whispered, reaching up with his free hand, touching the weeping wound on his own forehead. “This is how it felt. This was how _I_ felt. And yet...you still pulled the trigger. I was there, injured and defenseless, and yet _you still pulled the trigger_.”

Goro sobbed again. Akira was an anvil where he was sitting on his stomach, and his whole body ached and throbbed with pain. He was shaking, shivering, aggravating all his wounds due to the sudden shot of adrenaline that was pumping through him at his life being threatened.

“What will you do now?” Akira questioned quietly, clearly not expecting a response to his previous statement. “Are you going to die here? Will you let it all be in vain?” Akira’s face finally contorted into an emotion Goro could recognize: anger. “Will you let that _man_ get away with this? Get away with everything? Are you going to let him live after what he made you do to me? After what he’s done to _you?_ Are you giving up on your revenge?”

Goro didn’t respond. Akira shoved the barrel into Goro’s forehead.

“Well?” he ground out in a clipped tone. “Are you?”

“No,” Goro whispered. Akira poked him harshly again.

“I can’t hear you.”

“No!” Goro shouted, grabbing the barrel of the silencer but not pushing it away. “I won’t let that bastard take anything else away from me. I’m going to kill him.”

Goro stopped crying. He glared at this imitation of Akira, who’s pupil-less eyes were sparking, betraying an emotion that Goro couldn’t read.

“I’m going to fucking _kill him_ , after he achieves all his dreams. I’m going to whisper in his ear exactly who I am and force him to watch it all crumble away before I pull the damn trigger.”

“...good,” Akira said, and then he suddenly had pupils, and he was smiling at him, and those eyes and that smirk reminded him so much of his dream--

Akira kissed him.

Goro was too shocked to kiss back, and then Akira was smiling wistfully at him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

And then the weight on his stomach disappeared. The loss hurt more than any of his injuries.

Goro was left alone again.

Alone.

Alone.

He laid there, crying again, the _drip_ of his tears echoing into the darkness of his apartment, as he mourned the loss of the only person that had given him hope that he could be anything more than a monster. 

**Author's Note:**

> bloopers: "We're getting off track again," Akira said, blaming the author for letting the soft slip out of his fingers.  
> Me: leave me alone, I can't help it, y'all just too soft for each other  
> goro: don't blame him, he's trying his best. and besides i do like talking to you
> 
> My twitter is here! please be aware it is an 18+ account! https://twitter.com/ObssessedA
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Blixer: did akira really die or not? who knows ;)  
> anyways, we tried very hard to have this week on time and with quality, so i hope you enjoy it! If you liked it, maybe check our other fics? thanks for reading ❤


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